


Head Over Heels

by VastDelusion



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Love Potion/Spell, Love Triangles, M/M, Minor Simon Snow/Agatha Wellbelove, Oblivious Simon Snow, Pining Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Spells & Enchantments, Unrequited Love, Watford (Simon Snow), Watford Eighth Year
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-18 17:46:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28622016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VastDelusion/pseuds/VastDelusion
Summary: It is the beginning of Baz's problems when Penny's roommate Trixie accidentally misfires a love spell at Simon.(Un)fortunately for Baz, Simon's feelings of love are directed at him, and he has to find a way to bring Simon back to his normal, Baz-hating state before he loses himself to his feelings for him.
Relationships: Penelope Bunce & Simon Snow, Simon Snow/Agatha Wellbelove, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 6
Kudos: 44





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this for a bit, so I thought it was about time to post. Enjoy!

## SIMON

I've been thinking about Baz nonstop for over a month now. First, it started with paranoia, thinking that he was behind every corner, hiding in every shadow until he would leap out at me and drain me of every drop of blood in my body, until there was nothing left. I was afraid he would kill me. But he was never there. He was nowhere to be seen.  
  
Then, I began to worry. It was unlike him to not be at Watford during term. Despite the fact he was the one that never missed a class, always got perfect grades, was an incredible athlete, and could have any girl in the school that he wanted (even Agatha), he just wasn't here. If he wasn't here, then where was he?  
  
I took countless walks around the Watford grounds, with and without Penny, to see if he was lurking around anywhere. Usually, I found myself around the football pitch, where he stretched his toned muscles and played until the sweat coursed down his forehead and dampened his hair. His heavy breaths racking his body as he swept his hair back, his stony, grey eyes still focused on the goals. His shoulders and joints moving gracefully as he evaded the other team, swiftly, flawlessly, ruthlessly.  
  
He was so perfect at everything he tried, I was convinced it was all just a grand plot to upstage me. Everything he involved himself in, extracurricular activities, his immaculate grades, how he presented himself, flirting with my girlfriend last year outside the Wavering Wood, it was all to get under my skin, to prove himself superior to me, the lonesome, untalented orphan, masquerading as the hero. The so-called "Chosen One" (a title Baz persistently mocked and degraded).  
  
It was our Eighth and final year, the time for our duel and for one of us to be imminently destroyed by the hands of the other. The year that decided our fate. The year that I would hopefully come out victorious so I could, at last, defeat the Insidious Humdrum and save the World of Mages from its fateful demise.  
  
How was I supposed to do any of that without Baz? Vampire Baz, annoying, pretentious roommate Baz, perfect, stoic Baz. I would take any of them over this strange feeling that my mind was slowly caving into madness and depravity, that he was going to loom over me while I slept and take my life. It was too cowardly, even for Baz. It was the year, the moment that would define our lives, and Baz was always one to put on a show.  
  
Penny shakes me out of my daze. I was mindlessly staring at my plate of breakfast--toast with jam, a sour cherry scone with a decadent amount of butter, some cheesy eggs, and bacon.

"What is with you?" she whispers loudly to not call attention onto ourselves.  
  
I shake my head. "Nothing."  
  
She raises a skeptical eyebrow. "Uh huh."  
  
I look up and imagine Baz sitting opposite me, staring at me censuringly like he usually does. He never ate much, if at all. It used to worry me, until I found out about his state, seeing his tall, dark figure wandering about the catacombs.  
  
"Simon, is this about Baz, again?" she asks.  
  
I sigh. "Well, if your roommate was missing, wouldn't you be worried?"  
  
She looks up hopefully. I already know the answer to that. She would be grateful, if anything.  
  
"It's driving me mental, I know," I tell her. "But my roommate is more intimidating and..."  
  
"You think he's plotting something," she says, in a bored tone. She has heard it hundreds, if not thousands of times since first year. It was nothing new to her.  
  
"Maybe. But if he isn't, then where is he?" I ask.  
  
She looks hesitant to ask her next question. "Maybe he told Agatha where he went."  
  
I tense. Agatha is still a sore subject from last year. I avoid her. I haven't talked to her since the end of last term. Maybe I am wrong to do so, but she loves Baz more than me. It's incredibly obvious. I don't know why I haven't seen it before, with the way she looks at him, almost in a daydreaming manner. I may be oblivious, but I'm not blind enough anymore to not see her pining after him. I mean, he's perfect in every way. It would be dumb of her not to see it. Not to prefer him over me.  
  
Now that I look over at Agatha, who is sitting across the dining hall from us, her butter blonde hair glistening in the light and her blue eyes distracted, she looks unhappy. She isn't as beautiful as I remember, either.  
  
I shake out of my stupor and turn back to Penny, who begins to talk to me about some spells she was experimenting with. I eat my breakfast and listen to her.  
  
We go to class. I feel different. Everything is different, and I don't like it at all.

## PENNY

Simon is distracted, more than usual. Over the years, I've become accustomed to Simon's unhealthy obsession with Baz, but now it's unlike anything I've ever seen.

I know he's genuinely worried about him. He just won't admit to it. I won't force him to. He keeps staring off into space, and he won't truly engage in a conversation if it's not about Baz. Simon has a problem, and for once, I don't know how to help him fix it. So, I decided to help him out the best way I can. 

We're going to leave Watford and look for him.

My mother is going to kill me, but it's for the best. It's for Simon's mental health. Even if we're going directly into harm's way, at least Simon will know Baz is okay and we'll be better off than we were before. Maybe we'll find out more about the Humdrum as we go. 

I wrote all the assignments down from now until next month, so I'm hoping for the best. To Baz or bust.


	2. Chapter 2

## 

SIMON

We left Watford. Penny says that Baz has taken precedence over everything else in my mind, and I need to find closure to be able to focus. That makes me think I've already gone mental. 

She managed to spell a car to us, and now she's driving us down the motorway. The wind is blowing through my hair, and only recently did I realize how much I needed this. To take a break from the Mage, avoiding Agatha, schoolwork, and all my responsibilities, that wasn't summer. Where I could still feel the zing of magic sending tremors up my skin and filling the air with its distinct smell. 

And we'll find out where Baz really is so I can keep my head on straight, not worrying about whether he was hiding and waiting to attack me or not. 

The wind whips Penny's hair back and she smiles over at me. She's my best friend, and I should've known to ask her for help. She's always been there for me, no matter what bullshit I throw at her. 

The radio is blasting a song I don't recognize, but the notes and lyrics fill my gut with a good feeling, like I'm invincible, like no one could hurt me. It's just me and Penelope on the road to find Baz. To make sure the git is safe and not injured. I wouldn't know what to do if he isn't. I don't want to think about worst-case scenarios. He isn't dead. He can't be. He's Baz. I've lived with him for seven years; I know him better than anyone.

## BAZ

I am not okay. Unless if okay is, by definition, being kidnapped by fucking numpties, stuffed into a dark coffin (oh, the irony), and barely escaping with my sanity. I've received enough blunt-force trauma before this that I could have lived well without it.

It's enough that I missed Crowley-knows-how-long of first term at Watford. 

It's another that Aunt Fiona brought me back home when I specifically told her to bring me back to Watford. Apparently I needed some time to recoup after my incarceration. I'll be damned if Bunce gets top rank in our class in our final year. 

Numpties are imbecilic magickal creatures--there was no way they could have captured me with no motive. They must have had incentive to keep me imprisoned until Aunt Fiona assisted in my escape. I suspect the Humdrum to have played a role in it, but I'm uncertain.

But what else could it be? 

I already had my trunk packed for Watford before I was kidnapped. After I quench my hunger, I could head straight there. Aunt Fiona could give me a ride. My father won't go anywhere near that place, for obvious reasons. He probably didn't even notice I was missing. 

Snow noticed. I know he did. My absence would be too easy to notice, even for an oblivious idiot like Snow. Was he worried about me? Did he look for me? 

A pull in my gut and my fangs prodding my lower lip reminded me of how thirsty I was. How much I craved blood. It was ignominious how easily my willpower diminished in its presence. How many times I'd watched Snow's throat while he slept in his bed, mere meters from mine, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed. How I imagined sinking my teeth into it, tasting his blood on my tongue. How I imagined lapping up the crimson streams that escaped down the expanse of his neck with my tongue. 

And, I have a problem to be assessed. Even the groundskeepers would be suspicious if I stalked around, searching for squirrels to drain, sporting an obvious erection.

I took care of it in the shower, which I so desperately needed. The heady, potent aroma of dirt and sweat nearly drove me to insanity by itself. I inhale the familiar scent of my cedar and bergamot shampoo as I lather a liberal amount on my scalp and rinse it off under the stream of cold water. 

I dress myself, finish my hygiene routine, and shave. I leave my room by climbing out my window, and spelling myself to land softly on the ground below ( _ **"As light as a feather!"**_ ) in an attempt to avoid any attention. 

I carry great shame with me as I manage to catch a squirrel. It wouldn't be enough (it never was). It usually went from squirrels to cats to dogs to larger animals, like deer and cattle until my thirst was satiated.

As I return to the house with blood-soaked clothes and rivulets of crimson dribbling down my chin, I enter the same window as I left. 

My maid doesn't look surprised as I burst into the bathroom without grace and wash the liquid from my face and neck. I throw my clothes into the trash can and set them alight with my wand.

The porcelain sink is covered in splatters of blood. I watch my reflection as the water runs, tainted pink as it disappears down the drain. My grey eyes look feral. I'm frightened by the monster I behold. I wonder how some servants see me like this and don't run for their lives. In fact, they appear unfazed by it. They are the perfect amount of stoic that I could never achieve. 

As I change into new clothes, I throw myself on my bed and stare at the ceiling. I need to return to Watford, but, perhaps, Aunt Fiona was right about my recuperation before I faced the school again. Before I faced him again.

I knew he could never possibly love me, a mess that slowly erodes at itself before it is no longer strong enough to stand on its own and collapses on itself, its pieces lost in the wind. However, I still clung onto this pathetic shred of hope that he missed me. That his hatred for me was just misguided passion and he would realize that he loved me. But, I know otherwise. A boy made of gold could only love someone else made of gold. I'm made of mercury, a useless element that only harms humankind and has no other purpose. Agatha Wellbelove is made of gold. She is his future. And I am alone.

## SIMON

The Grimm-Pitch Manor is larger than I expected it to be. Out front, there is a courtyard bigger than any orphanage I've lived in. This is why he is such a pretentious git; he lives in a perfect house (a mansion) with servants, a courtyard, and probably has more classic sports cars than I can count on one hand.

It isn't the vampiric lair I expected, either (a gothic Victorian mansion, with storm clouds brewing behind it, surrounded by dead, mangled trees, denuded of all their leaves). Rather, it's an ordinary, grand mansion, made of marble, pillars, and lengths of ivy growing up his walls. It's the type you would see on the cover of a magazine or a picture in a book. It would look prettier if the sun was out, if we had arrived a few hours earlier. 

Penny and I are walking up the front steps to the door. I'm shaking with anxiety, but that is to be expected. I haven't seen him in months, and all of a sudden, I, his sworn nemesis, am making an appearance at his front door. I can imagine that sly, evil smirk that would pull on the corners of his lips as he taunted me. 

"Were you worried about me, Snow?" he would ask with his low voice, and my skin would crawl with anger. 

But Penny is already knocking at the door. The sky is dark and the breeze is chilling my skin. It's too late to turn back now.

## BAZ

Simon Snow is standing in my house. _Simon Snow_ is _standing_ in my _house_.

He's thin. Usually, he gains his weight back around this time. He fills his figure out so he doesn't look so gangly and scrawny, but it looks like he's hardly eaten anything. 

The sky had darkened remarkably over the past few hours. I unintentionally fell asleep on my bed, thinking about him. When I woke, he and Bunce were here, standing at the base of the staircase. 

He looks at me with relief, like he was happy I hadn't died since the last time he'd seen me. My suspicions (more like wishes) are confirmed. He was concerned about my well-being. His expression will betray his future claims that he didn't worry. 

He's sitting in my library now, whispering with Bunce. I hear little tidbits of conversation: "Was this really a good idea?" and "plotting". I roll my eyes and serve them tea. (Just because I am destined to be destroyed by him doesn't mean I can't be a good host.) (They invaded my homespace on my account, so a little Jasmine wouldn't hurt.)

He inspects the steaming cuppa I delivered to him to determine whether or not I poisoned it. 

"So, are you coming back to Watford?" asks Bunce. 

"Of course I am," I reply, busying myself with arranging my books back in order. "Why do you ask? Can't handle the competition for the top rank of the class, Bunce?" 

She scoffs. "I can. We were just worried about you, Basilton."

I tense. No one usually refers to me with anything other than "Baz", "Pitch", or "Vampire" (tertiary title courtesy of my idiotic roommate). 

I choose to ignore it. Snow burns his mouth on the cuppa. How I fell for him, I would never know. 

As it is too dark and too hopeless a task to return home for them, I graciously invite them to stay for the night. It takes me too long to find the extra bedclothes, as we do not receive guests too often. When we do, Daphne usually attends to their needs. 

Snow takes the couch in the study, and Bunce takes to the floor beside him. She probably slept in my bed during my absence. I should wash my bedclothes once I return.

## SIMON

I rest on the couch in Baz's study. I've tried to sleep several times, but I'm too apprehensive that Baz might attack me while I sleep. In my mind, I could hear Penny's voice refute my paranoia. It is not irrational to be cautious while behind enemy lines.

Malcolm Grimm would have my head if he found me sleeping on a couch in the study. He would be suspicious I'm a spy for the Mage. All the Old Families despise me. On the other hand, The Mage would probably be very angry with me if he knew I was here. Either way, I'm scared for good reason. 

Penelope doesn't seem to have much luck sleeping, either. She tosses and turns on her pile of linens on the floor. I would invite her up with me, but there is hardly enough room for me, let alone her. (I don't mean it in a fat-way.) (The couch is small.) (Penny isn't fat.)

"Oy," I whisper to her, but she doesn't respond. I repeat it louder. "Oy. Penny. Pen. _Penelope_."

I give up. Instead, I stand and walk around her. It takes two attempts, but I light my sword to guide me through the darkness without it dying out. I navigate through the long, maze-like hallways, opening every door that looks like it leads to a bathroom. 

I hope I don't wake anyone in the house. It would be disastrous if they caught me with my pants around my knees. 

I see golden light trailing from a slightly-ajar door at the end of the hallway. I know I should not pry, but my curiosity gets the better of me (it always does). I peer in the room through the slim crack to see Baz, curled up on his large bed, clutching a pillow in his arms. His body is shaking, like he's fighting off something or he's crying. 

What did he have to go through these past two months? Perhaps even longer than that. What prevented him from returning to Watford in the first place? 

Is he afraid of me? 

I never weighed in that possibility. He is so much better than me in every way. He could destroy the Humdrum faster and more efficiently than I ever could, and the bloody git would brag the whole time about it, too. Yet, I'm the Chosen One. And he doesn't want to die yet. I wouldn't either.

I leave him to it and continue to search for the elusive bathroom in the endless hallway that doesn't seem to have much to offer but closets and rooms I probably shouldn't enter.


	3. Chapter 3

## PENNY

We leave before Baz's parents have a chance to wake. None of us slept well. That is apparent in our tired eyes and sloping postures. I spell the car to drive itself, as I am too afraid that I might cause an accident. The headlights illuminate the motorway as the sun peeks over the horizon. Simon and I sleep better than we did in the house.  
  
It wasn't a good idea to enter so recklessly. We could have easily been killed for merely being seen on the property. Fortunately, Baz didn't say a word. We were never going to attempt it again, regardless, even if Baz is missing for six months instead of two.

Sorry, Basilton.

After a long drive, we arrive at Watford. While Simon slept, I worked on the assignments I needed to. We were gone for a day, if that, so there was nothing to worry about. I was expecting to go on a massive journey to uncover Baz's whereabouts, to come in, our wands brazen, and rescue him from the evildoer's clutches. Perhaps I thought he had been kidnapped by the Humdrum, but, fortunately for us, he had been in his house, lounging around. 

He did have some scratches and bruises on his face, which I couldn't explain. He probably was in danger. We were just late to the punch. 

He wouldn't elaborate any further than "I was busy," but I didn't complain. 

I gather all my materials for my first class, which is one of the few I don't share with Simon. He eats a quick breakfast and scrambles to finish his morning routine in the passenger seat. Baz, as usual, doesn't eat anything. He appears cool and collected as he slicks his hair back, examining his reflection the car mirror. His pale complexion is more accentuated by the rising sun. 

I know that there is truth in Simon's accusations that Baz is a vampire, but I scold myself for thinking that he's a vampire merely by matters he can't control. His pale skin, his dark hair, his widow's peak, his long, sharp nose, and curved lips which were now positioned in a small, wicked smirk. They were simple features, and he would possess them regardless if he was a vampire or not. 

Vampires are supposed to be suave, too, I suppose, and by all the times Simon dragged me out to his football games (and just by seeing him around Watford the past seven years), he is. But those facts alone could not make him a vampire. "Vampire" is not a title, like "Count" or "Madame". 

I rush to my first class after pulling my curly, untamable hair back in a ponytail and spell the car away, leaving Simon and Baz in the entry hall. 

****

## SIMON

I keep my sights on Baz. It feels a lot better knowing he's here at Watford rather than some undeterminable location, plotting my demise. Here, I can keep tabs on him. I can see what he's up to, if he has some major plan to eradicate me from the face of the Earth.  
  
I don't like my seating arrangement in Elocution class. He sits behind me, so it's difficult to determine when I can look back to see what he's doing. Also, Baz's notes have helped me remarkably through this class. His handwriting is neat and elegant, like a girl's. They capture all the knowledge I need for my homework, and Baz never knows when I use his notes.

It's not that I'm naturally sneaky or have a penchant for rooting through his stuff, but he leaves them in his desk, in a drawer, an easy place. And I always replace them in their exact positions in which I found them. If he doesn't want me to copy his notes, then he should hide them in a better place. He never does, so I know he doesn't know. I feel proud that I am capable of doing something secretly and he doesn't even suspect that it's happening.  
  
Class ends, and I find myself in my--our room, sitting on my unmade bed, rubbing the tiredness from my eyes. I didn't sleep too well. I did manage to fall asleep for a few hours after I discovered Baz. I'm still not sure if he was crying or not. I don't want to ask him. He deserves some dignity. Whatever got the better hand on him has him embarrassed enough. His face and wrists are covered in light bruises and scratches.  
  
He returns to the room, placing his notes in his desk drawer, and he casts a quick, **_"Clean as a whistle!"_** on his bedclothes. He must've known Penny had stayed up in our room while he was gone.  
  
I don't know how she managed to sneak up here, even though it was against the rules. (I think it's her heirloom ring that she uses to cast spells, the one with the large purple gemstone that weighs down her finger.) (I don't think she knows how she does it, either, and Penny knows practically everything.) I let her, anyway. Her presence comforted me. 

I know Baz would never kill me while in our room, so I didn't have to worry about it as much. The roommate's anathema prevented us from killing each other since first year. I suppose it was just nice to have familiar company, so I wasn't alone like I was all summer.  
  
Baz sits on his bed and frowns. It probably isn't as comfortable as his own bed back at his mansion, the one with four long posts that extend toward the tall ceiling of his room. 

He looks over at me with cold, grey eyes. I can't tell the emotion it holds. Whether it's anger, contempt, or pity. No matter what it is, it makes me angry. I don't say anything, though. I don't want our first conversation, now that he's back, to be spiteful and argumentative. 

So I leave him alone in the room. 

****

## BAZ

One thing I am familiar with are those bronze curls, facing away from me, bouncing along with every slight gesture he makes, with the light from the window dancing through them. I find my eyes watching them whenever I'm bored in Elocution class, where he sits in front of me. I've watched them every day for the past three years during term, excluding those days when he skips. I am always disappointed when he does. The room is less bright with him in it. I've gotten so used to the darkness I've forgotten what light looked like.  
  
Sometimes, I get the urge to reach my hand into them. To feel how soft they are. To run my fingers through them. But I don't. I replace the urge with tapping my pen persistently against the table. Snow looks over his shoulder and glares at me. I tap my pen more ferociously in spite.

I know he copies my class notes. I keep them in the same place, regardless. It's too bothersome to change the location of my possessions whenever he roots them out. Additionally, it's not harmful to my pride that he thinks something about me is useful. It's my indirect way of helping him. Not that I'd ever tell him. 

I stand from my bed--I don't remember it being so comfortable--and join Snow out the door, venturing down the staircase and towards the dining hall. I hardly eat anything. 

I don't care much for food anymore, except a few pieces of bread, some salt and vinegar crisps here and there, and sometimes sweets. I don't eat them decadently, like Snow (the glutton). A piece of chocolate or two satisfies me. The amount of sugar Snow consumes daily is awful. I am curious how he maintains his figure by the disgusting amount of sugar he puts in his body on a regular basis. 

I enter the dining hall without a dramatic entrance. (I'm too tired and I feel a little queasy.) I sit across the room from Snow, with Dev and Niall. Everyone stares at me for a while, but their gazes soon avert to their friends and the food that sat before them. I notice Wellbelove's eyes linger on me in a manner I wish Snow's would. I hoped it wasn't from that night outside the Wavering Wood last term. 

She caught me hunting. It took a great amount of restraint to prevent myself from devouring her right there. The smell of her perfume tickled my nose. I convinced her it wasn't anything. Then, I saw Snow watching us. I decided to mess with him, so I flirted with her a little. I held her fair hands in my own, and I flirted with my best ability to a person that wasn't one I loved. I wouldn't use any of those tactics on Snow. 

I do not know why I did that. If anything, it made him act more acrimoniously towards me. Maybe some masochistic part of myself wanted him to hate me, because Crowley knows I can't make him love me. I wanted to tell him I actually didn't harbor any feelings for Wellbelove. She isn't the type of person I would run with, but I felt that telling him that would make it worse. So I didn't talk to him about it. He didn't discuss it with me, either. 

I guess I was bitter that I could never attain Simon Snow, so I made it appear that I was attempting to steal his girlfriend from him. By the way she's looking over at me, I probably could succeed, if I wanted to. I don't want to. I keep my eyes off her, and I look back to Snow. 

His smile lights up the whole room. If he stood by me in a dark cave, with the light that radiates off him, I would be able to see clearly. 

My world revolves around him. I hate it.

****

## SIMON

I'm eating a sandwich with chips while Penny's roommate, Trixie, is practicing spells on her girlfriend. Penny rolls her eyes and focuses on her lunch. I watch, intrigued. Her magic smells sweet, yet homey, like cinnamon and vanilla sugar.  
  
I know Penny doesn't like Trixie, but I don't have to live with her. She's nice to me, so I don't have any reason to think she's annoying.  
  
Her girlfriend's hair changes from warm brown to blonde, then back to its regular color. My eyebrows raise. It wasn't as impressive as Penny's hair-color-changing spell. Her hair was bright red all throughout first year. As I look upon her now, I could still see hints of dark purple hidden in her hair.  
  
I know she's just experimenting. It's incredible how much her girlfriend trusted her that nothing would go wrong. I wish Baz trusted me that much. Not with spells, specifically, because I don't need anyone to tell me I am not too skilled with magic. I suppose I would need to trust him completely before I could expect any trust back, and I don't see that happening in the near future.  
  
She points her charm bracelet at her girlfriend once again, with a careful smile on her painted lips.  
  
**  
_"Head over heels!"_   
**she casts.  
  
And a bright ray of pink light flies directly at me.  
  
I freeze with surprise, and I don't have enough time to dodge it. The spell hits me in the chest.  
  
The entire hall goes silent. Penny looks furious.  
  
She stands and storms over to her roommate.  
  
"That was a love spell!" she exclaims. "What if it went wrong?"  
  
"I'm so sorry, Simon!" Trixie apologizes. "I didn't mean to... I didn't aim it at you!"  
  
"You're so careless!" Penny hollers, her face reddening with anger. I've never seen the wrath of Penny to this extent. It's scaring me a little. "Why do you even practice magic at all?"  
  
"Penny!" I stand up. "It's okay. She didn't mean to. I feel fine. It probably didn't work."  
  
She takes a deep breath and walks out of the dining hall. I apologize quickly to Trixie and follow her. 

## PENNY

I have never felt so angry in my life, even when my parents didn't approve of my long-distance relationship with Micah. Because of her carelessness with spells (not even traditional spells, but experimental spells, for Merlin's sake) my best friend could have gotten hurt, perhaps even killed. Who knows who he could've blindly fallen for with that spell. He could've fallen in love with me, or Trixie, and we'd have to research extensively to find a counter-spell and undo the effects.  
  
I'm not sure if he broke it off with Agatha yet. He was so hurt and upset after the Wavering Wood scenario that he hasn't spoken with her since. If he falls for her again, perhaps more deeply, due to that spell, he will ultimately get hurt. Agatha isn't in love with him anymore. Even a blind person could see that she liked Baz, and maybe Baz liked her back.  
  
Trixie should have been more careful. If I lost my best friend due to her negligence, roommate anathema be damned, I would hex her all the way to Timbuktu.  
  
Simon stands by the large doors as I clench my fists and curse. He allows me to cool off.  
  
"Penny," he says, in that placating tone. He always knows how to console me. That's one of the reasons that I love that he's my best friend. That gentle way of calming me down is magic, in itself. I wish I could delve into its secrets, but that's just who Simon is.  
  
"I know," I reply, and I take a deep breath to placate myself. "Sorry for blowing up. I was just angry. Are you okay?"  
  
He nods. "I don't feel any different. I don't think it worked. It was just a light, that's all."  
  
I exhale deeply in relief. "Okay. I just didn't want you to get hurt."  
  
He hugs me briefly. "I know." 


End file.
